Beatlefic: Playing Host
There hasn't been enough pointless John and Paul smut around here. So let's have some. Here, Paul describes a typical visit to John's house circa mid 60s. NC_17 ADULTS ONLY PLEASE!!! DISCLAIMER: I have no idea how Paul and John behaved together in John's house
Playing Host
It really was just a typical afternoon at John's full of all those aspects of John's personality displayed to the hilt. When I first arrived, he greeted me by saying in his smoothest voice, “Good afternoon and welcome to Chez Lennon. Please don't hesitate to ask for anything you may need or desire. Drinks? Sandwich? Joints? Tittie licks? Followed maybe by having your dick sucked?”
At his eager grin, I replied, “Cynthia must not be around for you to be offering that so freely out in the open.”
He shook his head. “Nope. She took Julian and went shopping with her friends. But she made us sandwiches so I really do have those. Egg salad. I wanted chicken but she's still having trouble figuring out the oven to cook one properly.”
As I handed him my hat and coat, I made the comment, “I thought Cyn was a pretty good cook.”
“She was before we moved in here,” John said as he hung my things up in the closet. “She can't figure out all these space age devices we've got in here. She says she's not used to them. I told her they were the future, babe, and that we both better get used to them as they're going to be around for a while and eventually everyone's going to have stuff like this in their kitchen. Just be glad it's not waffles. That was the first thing she could figure out and I'm really sick of eating waffles. It was all she could cook in here. At least she figured out how to turn on the stove and boil water so she could make the egg salad for the sandwiches.”
He opened the huge futuristic looking refrigerator and held up a plastic tub with one of those snap lids on it. “They're in here. At least Tupperware is still the same and we both can figure out how to open that up. You should have seen some of the packaging some of this new food is coming in. Neither of us can get the stuff out of some of it even with knives and scissors. I guess it really was designed to last 100 years or more and survive a nuclear blast. It really is the future now.”
We had drinks in his sun room followed by a smoke and then it was time for the sandwiches which we ate while watching the telly. John was always watching the telly even when he was saying something to you. After we ate, it was time for another smoke. After that, we both just drifted into silence staring at some program on the screen that had caught our attention.
It was at some point right in the middle of the show that I felt John move, stir around a bit, and then lean over towards me. He looked at me for a second and then blatantly just started to unbutton my shirt.
“John,” I asked him. “What are you doing that for?”
“Because that's where your nipples are,” He replied with such a serious tone to his voice, it was almost comical with what he was doing to me. “We've had the drinks, food and smoke. Now I'm just continuing with being a good host and making good on my other offers. A good host knows what his guest enjoy and it pleases him to provide it.”
I chuckled as he pulled my shirt open and the next thing I knew, he had his face down in my chest and I could feel his tongue lapping delicately at me like a pussycat drinking cream.
“Just keep watching the show,” John ordered me in a very soft voice while he went back to lightly licking my most sensitive spots on my chest. "And don't pretend you're not enjoying it."
It was a bit surreal sitting there watching some soap opera type show on the telly with John's head moving in the bottom half of my vision, his lips puckered around one of my nipples, seeing his mouth move gently as his tongue worked on me. Once I perked up, because, well, let's face it, John knew what he was doing to me, he lips wrapped around and worked at sucking what they could find. I could tell he was pleased because he gave little grunts and moans as my body warmed up to him. Everyone once in a while I'd sigh just to let him know I appreciated what he was doing.
His hands were all over me too. Stroking my thighs and stomach. Running along my legs both inside
and out. I couldn't help it when I felt myself getting a bit hard and John knew when it happened. His hands had found me and his moans gave a little sound of acknowledgment.
Eventually, he had enough of moving his face back and forth across my chest and trailed it down me to undo my belt buckle. Once he had me exposed, I was fully hard right in his face. He smiled while smacking his lips mumbling, “This is more like a desert for me,” before he began running his tongue lightly up and down it practically in a tease.
Right when I thought I couldn't take the tickling feelings anymore he had been giving me, he opened his jaws and sucked me right into his mouth. God, that feeling of being dipped into something warm and moist, moving in just that right way to make it even more pleasurable. At this point, I couldn't even be watching the show that was on the telly anymore. I had my eyes closed. I was building up in a huge wave that finally exploded over the dam holding it back. I jerked my hips and let out a sound, but none of that seemed to phase John. I could hear him gulp and smack his lips. When he was finished, he made a very satisfied, “Ah,” sound himself.
I was frozen in that moment. I couldn't move. It was like any energy that could make me even twitch a finger was gone from me as I melted into a puddle of orgasmic bliss. The most I could do was open my eyes for a few seconds as John sat back up on the couch again right next to me, but then I had to drift off again into my own private internal universe.
I must have slept. I dozed off and had a vivid dream that was unimportant. When I woke and realized it had only been a dream, I was momentarily disoriented before I remembered I was in John's sun room. We had been watching the telly and he had just given me a blow job. What was happening now? I could feel a blanket had been draped over me and there was something soft under my head. It was a pillow. Something was at the top of my head and I quickly surmised it was John's bare thigh sprawled over my skull.
Turning my head and stretching my neck a little bit, I could tell he was sitting right next to me where he had parked himself before I drifted off. He was staring blankly at the telly only his trousers were down around his knees and his hand was reaching between his own legs.
“Good morning, honey,” I joked though I knew it had not been that long I've been asleep. “Touching yourself again? Is it good for you too?”
John's face remained blank and expressionless. I had hoped for a smile but I think he was too far gone in his own little world. He did surprise me by verbally responding. When he got into that mode, he often forgone speaking. “I had to. I needed something myself and wasn't going to wake you up to give it to me. That wouldn't have been a very good host of me. But you know what? As I sat here, tossing myself off with your hair next to my thigh, I felt like I was the most sickest perverted fag that ever lived. Can you believe it? After all the things we've both done, like Hamburg and Amsterdam and all of that, tossing myself off while touching your hair made me feel like a freak.” He gave out a laugh at himself.
“Thanks for covering me up,” I mentioned as I pulled the blanket up over my shoulder. I had suddenly began to feel a little bit chilly.
“I wouldn't be a good host if my guests didn't get pillow and blankets for when they slept,” John remarked.
Right then we heard a door slam and footsteps. Julian's voice and laughter let us both know that him and Cynthia must be home again.
“Zip up the trousers,” John suddenly murmured to me as he began to wiggle about pulling his own pants back up.
I complied and by the time Cynthia emerged into the sun room with Julian a bundle of energy running
about, we were just two blokes sitting on a couch bundled up with pillows and blankets watching telly.
She reached into a shopping bag and held up what appeared to be a whole chicken wrapped in plastic with some of that Space Age packaging John had been describing.
“We're going to try this again,” she announced. “The clerk at the shop knew all about this type of oven we've got and told me the best temperature and time for cooking a chicken this size. I wrote it all down so this one shouldn't be staying rubbery on the inside.”
“The clerk knew our oven?” John repeated rather dazed.
“She said she's dealt with them before when I told her what make it was. But she said that how you cook the bird depends on what size it is too. I wrote it all down and we'll have this tomorrow night,” Cyn chatted on rather excitedly. “Maybe this oven won't be too bad after all.”
“It's supposed to be the best. That's why I got it,” John said.
“The best and easiest to use aren't always the same,” She answered him before she put the chicken back into it's shopping bag.
“I liked the sandwiches. Thank you,”I interjected remembering my manners suddenly.
She smiled at me and said hello. “Glad you enjoyed them. Well, if all goes right, we'll be having a bit of chicken salad like John wanted once I get this thing roasted.”
“I've been playing host,” John announced out of nowhere.
“I see you have,” She replied as Julian climbed up on the couch with us and made himself right at home between us.
“I did a good job, I think,” John said and I could tell he was pretty stoned.
“He did a great job,” I called out to Cynthia and chuckled. “Pillows and blankets and all.”
“Enjoy yourselves,” She gently ordered as she went off to put away her chicken in the kitchen. We spent the rest of the afternoon watching the telly with Julian.
Playing Host
It really was just a typical afternoon at John's full of all those aspects of John's personality displayed to the hilt. When I first arrived, he greeted me by saying in his smoothest voice, “Good afternoon and welcome to Chez Lennon. Please don't hesitate to ask for anything you may need or desire. Drinks? Sandwich? Joints? Tittie licks? Followed maybe by having your dick sucked?”
At his eager grin, I replied, “Cynthia must not be around for you to be offering that so freely out in the open.”
He shook his head. “Nope. She took Julian and went shopping with her friends. But she made us sandwiches so I really do have those. Egg salad. I wanted chicken but she's still having trouble figuring out the oven to cook one properly.”
As I handed him my hat and coat, I made the comment, “I thought Cyn was a pretty good cook.”
“She was before we moved in here,” John said as he hung my things up in the closet. “She can't figure out all these space age devices we've got in here. She says she's not used to them. I told her they were the future, babe, and that we both better get used to them as they're going to be around for a while and eventually everyone's going to have stuff like this in their kitchen. Just be glad it's not waffles. That was the first thing she could figure out and I'm really sick of eating waffles. It was all she could cook in here. At least she figured out how to turn on the stove and boil water so she could make the egg salad for the sandwiches.”
He opened the huge futuristic looking refrigerator and held up a plastic tub with one of those snap lids on it. “They're in here. At least Tupperware is still the same and we both can figure out how to open that up. You should have seen some of the packaging some of this new food is coming in. Neither of us can get the stuff out of some of it even with knives and scissors. I guess it really was designed to last 100 years or more and survive a nuclear blast. It really is the future now.”
We had drinks in his sun room followed by a smoke and then it was time for the sandwiches which we ate while watching the telly. John was always watching the telly even when he was saying something to you. After we ate, it was time for another smoke. After that, we both just drifted into silence staring at some program on the screen that had caught our attention.
It was at some point right in the middle of the show that I felt John move, stir around a bit, and then lean over towards me. He looked at me for a second and then blatantly just started to unbutton my shirt.
“John,” I asked him. “What are you doing that for?”
“Because that's where your nipples are,” He replied with such a serious tone to his voice, it was almost comical with what he was doing to me. “We've had the drinks, food and smoke. Now I'm just continuing with being a good host and making good on my other offers. A good host knows what his guest enjoy and it pleases him to provide it.”
I chuckled as he pulled my shirt open and the next thing I knew, he had his face down in my chest and I could feel his tongue lapping delicately at me like a pussycat drinking cream.
“Just keep watching the show,” John ordered me in a very soft voice while he went back to lightly licking my most sensitive spots on my chest. "And don't pretend you're not enjoying it."
It was a bit surreal sitting there watching some soap opera type show on the telly with John's head moving in the bottom half of my vision, his lips puckered around one of my nipples, seeing his mouth move gently as his tongue worked on me. Once I perked up, because, well, let's face it, John knew what he was doing to me, he lips wrapped around and worked at sucking what they could find. I could tell he was pleased because he gave little grunts and moans as my body warmed up to him. Everyone once in a while I'd sigh just to let him know I appreciated what he was doing.
His hands were all over me too. Stroking my thighs and stomach. Running along my legs both inside
and out. I couldn't help it when I felt myself getting a bit hard and John knew when it happened. His hands had found me and his moans gave a little sound of acknowledgment.
Eventually, he had enough of moving his face back and forth across my chest and trailed it down me to undo my belt buckle. Once he had me exposed, I was fully hard right in his face. He smiled while smacking his lips mumbling, “This is more like a desert for me,” before he began running his tongue lightly up and down it practically in a tease.
Right when I thought I couldn't take the tickling feelings anymore he had been giving me, he opened his jaws and sucked me right into his mouth. God, that feeling of being dipped into something warm and moist, moving in just that right way to make it even more pleasurable. At this point, I couldn't even be watching the show that was on the telly anymore. I had my eyes closed. I was building up in a huge wave that finally exploded over the dam holding it back. I jerked my hips and let out a sound, but none of that seemed to phase John. I could hear him gulp and smack his lips. When he was finished, he made a very satisfied, “Ah,” sound himself.
I was frozen in that moment. I couldn't move. It was like any energy that could make me even twitch a finger was gone from me as I melted into a puddle of orgasmic bliss. The most I could do was open my eyes for a few seconds as John sat back up on the couch again right next to me, but then I had to drift off again into my own private internal universe.
I must have slept. I dozed off and had a vivid dream that was unimportant. When I woke and realized it had only been a dream, I was momentarily disoriented before I remembered I was in John's sun room. We had been watching the telly and he had just given me a blow job. What was happening now? I could feel a blanket had been draped over me and there was something soft under my head. It was a pillow. Something was at the top of my head and I quickly surmised it was John's bare thigh sprawled over my skull.
Turning my head and stretching my neck a little bit, I could tell he was sitting right next to me where he had parked himself before I drifted off. He was staring blankly at the telly only his trousers were down around his knees and his hand was reaching between his own legs.
“Good morning, honey,” I joked though I knew it had not been that long I've been asleep. “Touching yourself again? Is it good for you too?”
John's face remained blank and expressionless. I had hoped for a smile but I think he was too far gone in his own little world. He did surprise me by verbally responding. When he got into that mode, he often forgone speaking. “I had to. I needed something myself and wasn't going to wake you up to give it to me. That wouldn't have been a very good host of me. But you know what? As I sat here, tossing myself off with your hair next to my thigh, I felt like I was the most sickest perverted fag that ever lived. Can you believe it? After all the things we've both done, like Hamburg and Amsterdam and all of that, tossing myself off while touching your hair made me feel like a freak.” He gave out a laugh at himself.
“Thanks for covering me up,” I mentioned as I pulled the blanket up over my shoulder. I had suddenly began to feel a little bit chilly.
“I wouldn't be a good host if my guests didn't get pillow and blankets for when they slept,” John remarked.
Right then we heard a door slam and footsteps. Julian's voice and laughter let us both know that him and Cynthia must be home again.
“Zip up the trousers,” John suddenly murmured to me as he began to wiggle about pulling his own pants back up.
I complied and by the time Cynthia emerged into the sun room with Julian a bundle of energy running
about, we were just two blokes sitting on a couch bundled up with pillows and blankets watching telly.
She reached into a shopping bag and held up what appeared to be a whole chicken wrapped in plastic with some of that Space Age packaging John had been describing.
“We're going to try this again,” she announced. “The clerk at the shop knew all about this type of oven we've got and told me the best temperature and time for cooking a chicken this size. I wrote it all down so this one shouldn't be staying rubbery on the inside.”
“The clerk knew our oven?” John repeated rather dazed.
“She said she's dealt with them before when I told her what make it was. But she said that how you cook the bird depends on what size it is too. I wrote it all down and we'll have this tomorrow night,” Cyn chatted on rather excitedly. “Maybe this oven won't be too bad after all.”
“It's supposed to be the best. That's why I got it,” John said.
“The best and easiest to use aren't always the same,” She answered him before she put the chicken back into it's shopping bag.
“I liked the sandwiches. Thank you,”I interjected remembering my manners suddenly.
She smiled at me and said hello. “Glad you enjoyed them. Well, if all goes right, we'll be having a bit of chicken salad like John wanted once I get this thing roasted.”
“I've been playing host,” John announced out of nowhere.
“I see you have,” She replied as Julian climbed up on the couch with us and made himself right at home between us.
“I did a good job, I think,” John said and I could tell he was pretty stoned.
“He did a great job,” I called out to Cynthia and chuckled. “Pillows and blankets and all.”
“Enjoy yourselves,” She gently ordered as she went off to put away her chicken in the kitchen. We spent the rest of the afternoon watching the telly with Julian.